


Double Blind

by lamardeuse



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think he's flirting with you, sir," Hathaway said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dorothy for fantastic beta and Britpicking services. Any remaining errors are mine.

 

“I think he’s flirting with you, sir,” Hathaway said, leaning closer so that he wouldn’t be overheard.  
  
Robbie’s head snapped up. “What?” James only raised his eyebrows, and Robbie made a face, because they both knew who he was talking about. The new barman at the White Horse had been making small talk with Robbie all night. It had taken him five minutes to get away just now. “Don’t be ridiculous, man. He’s just – being friendly. Getting to know the regulars.”  
  
“He hasn’t chatted me up when I’ve bought a round,” James observed.  
  
Robbie harrumphed. “You’re barmy.”  
  
“You always seem surprised when anyone shows an interest in you,” James mused, sitting back.  
  
“I do when they’re fit and twenty years younger than I am.”  
  
“Some people prefer older men.”  
  
Robbie glanced at him, but James wasn’t looking his way. “Be that as it may,” Robbie murmured, “he’s too young for me.”  
  
“Is that your only objection?”  
  
Robbie heard the unmistakable challenge in the question, and wondered for the thousandth time what was going on in Hathaway’s head. The last few weeks, ever since Robbie had finally called it quits with Laura, the lad had had a bee in his bonnet. He was almost combative whenever their personal or professional discussions strayed to relationships or dating – and now that Robbie thought about it, they usually strayed in that direction _because_ of Hathaway. Robbie was at a loss to explain it, but whatever it was, he was tired of feeling as though he were always three steps behind. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables.  
  
“Well, he’s not a nob or a don,” Robbie said, “points in his favour.”  
  
James’ eyes widened slightly as Robbie continued. “And his family's from around Sunderland way. Says me accent reminds him of home.”  
  
James' mouth worked for a moment before he spoke. “Sounds like you're well-suited.”  
  
Robbie nodded. “You're right. I should keep an open mind, eh?” And before he could think better of it, he'd slid out of the bench and was headed back towards the bar.  
  
The barman – Dave – smiled as soon as Robbie approached, and Robbie's stomach flipped. Bloody hell, was he actually going to do this? “Look,” he said, “you're going to think this is daft, but –”  
  
“The answer is yes,” Dave said, leaning his elbows on the bar.  
  
“You don't even know what I was going to ask yet!” Robbie said.  
  
“I've been throwing myself at you all night, and now you come back with a pint three quarters full. You're not the only one with detecting skills, you know,” Dave said, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Robbie chuckled in spite of his nerves. “You're a cheeky one.”  
  
“I am that,” Dave agreed, smiling. “So, are you asking me?”  
  
“I suppose I have to, now.”  
  
Dave pulled out a pad of notepaper from under the bar and scribbled a phone number on it. “I'm free on Thursday.” He ripped the piece off the top and pressed it into Robbie's hand; his fingers lingered for just a little longer than necessary. He had piercing green eyes, Robbie noted. “All right?”  
  
“All right,” Robbie agreed. He suddenly felt foolish; what on earth had he just done? “I'll, erm, ring you.”  
  
Dave only smiled in response, and Robbie turned away, trying not to let the panic show on his face as he made his way back to Hathaway. Hathaway, who was making a show of drinking his pint and pretending he hadn't been watching Lewis make time with a young man with some sort of Celtic knotwork tattoo on his rather well-developed bicep.  
  
 _Jesus Christ,_ Lewis thought. _Going a bit far to prove a point, aren't you?_  
  
Still, in for a penny and all that. “I suppose I haven't lost me touch,” Robbie said, making a show of pocketing the number as he sat down.  
  
If Hathaway was feigning disinterest, he was doing a bloody good job of it. “Why didn't he just program the number into your phone?”  
  
“Says he hates mobiles. Doesn't even own one.”  
  
“A fellow Luddite,” Hathaway drawled, draining the last of his pint and setting it on the table with a bit more force than strictly necessary. “Perfect.” He began to slide out of the bench.  
  
“You leaving?”  
  
“I'm afraid so, sir. Getting a bit late.”  
  
Usually they'd walk together for a while before heading their separate ways, but Robbie could tell by the set of his shoulders that James was clearly planning to go it alone tonight. A pang of regret went through him, but it couldn't be helped now. What would he say? That he'd just done it to take the piss? That wasn't all it was, though. “Well, good night, then. See you in the morning.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Good night.” Robbie narrowed his eyes; that was a lot of 'sir's, even for James, but the lad already had his back turned and was heading for the door. Robbie took a few more minutes to finish his pint, and then he was on his way, too. He debated saying good night to Dave, but thought better of it when he saw him busy with a small crowd of punters, all wanting what looked like margaritas.  
  
Outside, the cold night air hit Robbie like a slap in the face. He jammed his hands in his coat pockets and started off, shoulders hunching against the wind.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Hathaway was the model of the perfect sergeant: helpful, efficient, only speaking when spoken to.  
  
By noon, Robbie wanted to strangle him.  
  
“C'mon,” he said finally, grabbing his coat, “let's get some lunch.”  
  
“Thanks, but I brought a sandwich with me,” Hathaway said, stopping Robbie in his tracks. For a split second, he considered ordering James to come with him, but what would that accomplish? It would only make Hathaway more distant, and the ensuing conversation would probably alienate him further.  
  
“Suit yourself,” Robbie said. “I'll be back in an hour.”  
  
He ended up at the White Horse again, though of course Dave was nowhere to be seen. Sliding into the same bench seat after placing his order at the bar, he looked across at the empty seat and felt an inexplicable sense of loss, which didn't make sense. He hadn't lost Hathaway: they were still coworkers, colleagues – friends. Nothing had to change, just because –  
  
 _What? Because you're looking for a substitute for something you can't have?_  
  
Robbie shook his head to clear it. _Bugger._  
  
“Is this seat taken?”  
  
Robbie looked up, startled, to see Innocent looking down at him. “Please,” he said, waving a hand at the bench opposite. Innocent sat down and rested her folded arms on the table.  
  
“I saw your sergeant sitting alone in your office eating a ham sandwich as though it had done him an injury, and thought I'd investigate. Have you two had a domestic?”  
  
Robbie blew out a breath. “Not exactly.”  
  
“Then what exactly is it?”  
  
For one moment, Robbie thought about explaining everything. While he and Innocent didn't always see eye to eye, they'd got to know one another much better over the years. Still, it wasn’t as though they had heart-to-hearts about their romantic lives. “It's – personal, ma'am. Nothing to do with our working relationship.”  
  
Innocent frowned. “Forgive me if I’m not reassured.”  
  
Robbie blew out a breath. “Truth be told, I’m not sure what’s going on. He’s being – Hathaway. You know. Playing it close to the vest.”  
  
“Really,” Innocent said. “And you’re completely blameless in all this.”  
  
Robbie took a sip of his juice. “I didn’t say that.”  
  
“Robbie…”  
  
“Look, we’re – well, you wouldn’t think to look at us, but Hathaway and me, we’re two peas, at least in some ways. And one of them is that we come at things side-on. It’s fine for detective work, but not so much for – other things. But we get round to it eventually.”  
  
Innocent sighed. “As long as you’re all right,” she said. “It’s not as though I like to pry.”  
  
Robbie smirked. “Maybe just a little.”  
  
“He’s been good for you, Robbie,” she said, “and you’ve been good for him. I wish you –” Robbie held his breath, but she shook her head. “Never mind. Not prying.” She moved to go, but Robbie briefly put a gentle hand on her arm.  
  
“I appreciate it,” he said softly. “I do. Let me buy you lunch?”  
  
Innocent’s expression softened, and she nodded. “Thanks.”  
  
Robbie smiled. “Ma’am.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Thursday night rolled around, Robbie had thought about calling it off sixteen separate times. He showed up at the restaurant mainly because as passive-aggressive as Hathaway had been all week, he'd be impossible if Robbie didn't go through with it. Of course, the only problem with this approach was that Robbie felt more like he was sitting an exam than going on a date.  
  
To his surprise, Dave was already there when he arrived. He was dressed perfectly, in a midnight blue jacket and trousers over a grey shirt open at the throat. Robbie had one of his work suits on – albeit one of the more recent ones – and a more casual shirt. As Dave walked towards him with a small, pleased smile, he felt every one of his fifty-six years.  
  
“Hello.” Dave touched Robbie's wrist lightly, and Robbie felt it straight down to his toes. “Glad you could make it.”  
  
Robbie smiled tightly. He'd warned Dave when he called that he might have to cancel if there were a case, and Dave had said he understood. Of course, saying you understood and really understanding what a pain in the arse a cop's schedule could be were two different things –  
  
 _Christ, give the lad a break,_ Robbie admonished himself, _after all, it's not as though you're planning to marry him, is it?_  
  
Aloud, all Robbie said was, “Yeah, everyone's behaving themselves in Oxford tonight, so far.”  
  
“Then I'm grateful to the criminals of Oxford,” Dave said. Gesturing towards the restaurant, he said, “Shall we?”  
  
Robbie was surprised when dinner turned out to be far more enjoyable than he'd been expecting. Despite the difference in their ages, he and Dave did have a few things in common. It was odd to glance at his watch and realise two hours had flown by.  
  
“Do you have another date later on?” Dave asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“Oh, no,” Robbie said, looking up. “I just – I can't believe it's ten o'clock already.”  
  
“I'll take that as a compliment.”  
  
“It was,” Robbie said. “Sorry. I'm a little out of practise.”  
  
Dave leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I didn't notice. You're very charming.”  
  
“Go on with you,” Robbie said, taking a sip of his brandy to hide his embarrassment.  
  
“I'm not taking the mickey, and I'm not saying you're doing it to get in my pants. You're genuinely a lovely bloke. That's one of the things I like about older men.”  
  
Ah, now they were getting to it. “I was wondering if you had a – preference that way.”  
  
Dave chuckled. “I do. I spent far too long mucking about with men my own age, and it was usually a mistake. Older men are confident. They know who they are, and what they want.” He leaned forwards and lowered his voice. “And they have the experience to make things very interesting.”  
  
Robbie shifted in his seat. “Most of us do, I suppose,” he murmured.  
  
Dave cocked his head. “That's an intriguingly cryptic statement.”  
  
Robbie sighed. “Hardly as exciting as all that. It's only – if you're looking for someone who knows what he wants, I'm not your best bet.” At Dave's raised eyebrows, he added, “And as for experience – well. The last time I did anything with a bloke, I was about twenty.” Robbie drained the last of his brandy in one gulp, wincing at the resulting burn.  
  
Dave studied him for a long moment before speaking. “And your – youthful experimentation led you to conclude you were straight?”  
  
Robbie shrugged. “I don't know. I did know I wanted a family, and in the Seventies, you didn't see two men raising kids. And I never really saw meself as gay. More – flexible, I reckon.” He rolled his brandy glass between his palms. “And then I met someone and fell in love, and that was it.”  
  
“You got married.”  
  
Robbie nodded, looking at Dave. “Yeah. And it was good. Very good.”  
  
Dave leaned closer. “What happened?”  
  
Robbie swallowed. It had been almost a decade now, but the words hadn't become any easier to say. “I lost her. Hit and run.”  
  
“Oh, God, Robbie,” Dave breathed. “I'm so sorry.”  
  
“Thanks. Though I'm the one who's sorry, considering I'm here under false pretences.”  
  
“Stop apologising. I've had a wonderful evening.”  
  
“I'm glad of it. You're a nice lad.”  
  
Dave smiled. “I'll take that as a compliment, too.”  
  
Robbie returned the smile. “As well you should. I only go out with nice lads.”  
  
“Like the good-looking blond I saw you with the day we met?”  
  
Robbie studied his empty glass. “That's me sergeant. He's not – there's nothing going on there.”  
  
“Hmmmm,” Dave said, those sharp green eyes boring into him. “If you say so.”  
  
Thankfully, Robbie was saved from answering by the arrival of the waiter, who asked them if they wanted dessert. Dave shook his head, and Robbie asked for the cheque. After he left, Dave began to reach into his back pocket for his wallet.  
  
“Don't you dare. I asked you, remember?”  
  
Dave looked up at him. “After I goaded you into it.”  
  
“Didn't take much goading.” Dave's eyes flashed at that, and Robbie felt a prickle of awareness. God, it had been a long time since he'd thought about this in any detail. It had been too dangerous to think about it with James, but this – this was something he remembered, the anticipation, the swift punch of adrenaline. It was subtly different with a man – more raw, more immediate.  
  
The bill paid, they walked out into the night. “Did you bring your car?” Robbie asked.  
  
“No, I only live a few streets from here.”  
  
“I could – drive you home if you like,” Robbie said. God, that sounded like he was fishing for an invitation, and he wasn't. Or was he?  
  
“Robbie...” Dave began, then trailed off, shaking his head. “Bugger, this isn't smart.”  
  
“What isn't?” Robbie asked. His heart sped up.  
  
Dave met his gaze. “Okay,” he said finally, voice low with promise. “Take me home.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The short ride to Dave's flat in Cowley was a blur. They didn't speak at all except when Dave offered directions, and then Robbie was pulling up to a nondescript row house. Dave must have asked Robbie to come in, but he honestly didn't remember that, either. It seemed as if one moment they were standing outside the restaurant, and in the next Robbie was being backed against Dave's front door as Dave bracketed Robbie's head with his hands and leaned in.  
  
Robbie must have looked as terrified as he felt, because Dave hesitated. “All you have to do is say the word, and we'll stop,” he murmured.  
  
“I know,” Robbie managed, surprised he was still capable of forming words. His mouth was dry and he felt light-headed, as though he'd drunk far more than one glass of wine and a small brandy.  
  
Dave came closer, but to Robbie's surprise he didn't kiss him, only reached up and traced Robbie's lower lip with a finger. “I just have one question: why now?” Dave asked.  
  
Robbie blinked at him. “I don't –”  
  
“Why, after all these years, did you want to try it on with a bloke? I mean,” he continued, smiling, “much as I'd like to think I'm just that special, I have to wonder, because forgive me, but that's a bloody long time. And an invitation from a man you barely know doesn't seem like enough to make you stray from thirty odd years of heterosexuality.”  
  
Robbie swallowed, considering his answer, but all he could think of was, “It's not the first time I've – thought about it lately.”  
  
Dave nodded. “Thought about it as an abstract concept, or thought about it with your sergeant?”  
  
Robbie flushed and drew himself up, breaking the contact between them. “Look, I understand if you don't want to – perhaps I'd best just go –”  
  
“Robbie, Robbie, oi, hang on,” Dave said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I want, believe me. I very much want. Yeah, you're not what I expected, but I have to admit I'm intrigued – and turned on – at the thought of being the teacher for a change.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Robbie's, and Robbie shivered at the contact. “And I could teach you a lot, believe me.”  
  
“I imagine you could,” Robbie groaned. He bent his head, intending to close the last inch of space between them, but Dave pulled back abruptly and placed a hand on Robbie's chest.  
  
“But I don't think this is what you want,” Dave murmured. “And I'm almost positive this isn't what you need.”  
  
“And how do you know that?” Robbie asked, irritation seeping in at the edges of his voice.  
  
“Because I saw the way you looked at him when he left the pub,” Dave said. “I was hoping I was wrong, but after what you told me tonight – well. It doesn't take a copper's brain to add two and two.”  
  
Robbie shook his head. “It's not like that, I told you. He's my sergeant, my subordinate. It wouldn't be proper.”  
  
“But you've thought about it, haven't you?” Dave asked.  
  
“Why do you want to know so damned badly?” Robbie snapped.  
  
Dave cradled Robbie's cheek in his palm. “Because I don't want to be someone's consolation prize, pet,” he said softly. “I spent the worst year of my life mad for a bloke who was always looking over his shoulder, and I'm not keen to repeat the experience.”  
  
Robbie closed his eyes. “Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –”  
  
“Hush, I know.” Robbie opened his eyes when he felt Dave press a kiss against his forehead. “Listen, I'm going to make us some tea, and then you're going to tell me all about it, yeah?”  
  
Robbie frowned. “Why would you do that?”  
  
Dave shook his head. “One thing I can teach you tonight: we take care of our own. I've had a few kind blokes offer me tea and sympathy over the years when I needed someone to talk to. I'm only returning the favour.” He stepped back, trailing his hand down Robbie's arm. “Come on, then.”  
  
Robbie nodded, smiling as best he could. “Thanks,” he said, following Dave down the hall to the living room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Robbie felt that he deserved some sort of citation for making it to noon without murdering anyone. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with expecting the lab to have those bloody results ready by the end of the day, no matter how much they might squawk about it. He had an expert witness he'd left six messages for who _still_ hadn't rung him back, and yes, perfect, he thought, inspecting his lunch – the deli down the street had buggered up his sandwich order _again._  
  
“Are you all right, sir?”  
  
Robbie looked up, and up, to see James looming over him. “I'm fine. Why?”  
  
“You seem distracted. I've been calling your name for a couple of minutes, but you didn't hear me.”  
  
Robbie shook his head. “Sorry – just tired, I suppose.”  
  
James opened his mouth, closed it again. “Did you – erm.” His gaze flickered over Robbie's face. “Have a late night?”  
  
Robbie raised his eyebrows. He hadn't mentioned to James that he'd gone out with Dave last night, but the lad was a detective. “A little, yeah,” he admitted. He'd stayed chatting with Dave until after midnight. Robbie didn't want to say it hadn't been helpful, because it had been a relief to be able to finally talk about what he was feeling with someone. But when you got down to it, Dave wasn't a copper and didn't see the same obstacles that Robbie did. And even if the job wasn't an issue, there was no guarantee that James felt the same way about older men as Dave did.  
  
 _Admit it,_ Dave had said. _You're just scared to take a chance._  
  
Well, of course he was bloody scared. Before everything else, James was his friend, his partner. They worked well together. If James rejected him, it could mean an end to all of that. Hell, James would be within his rights to bring Robbie up on harassment charges if he tried it on, not that he would. No, it wasn't worth the risk, no matter what Dave thought.  
  
When he looked up, James was still watching him, and Robbie realised he may have missed out on something else James had said. “Sorry, woolgathering again. Did you say anything just now?”  
  
James hesitated before speaking. “I asked you if you'd be seeing him again.”  
  
Robbie searched James' face, but could find nothing there beyond simple polite curiosity. “Any particular reason you want to know?” he asked, wincing internally when it came out sounding harsher than he'd intended.  
  
James shook his head. “No, sir, I was only...” James trailed off. “Sorry,” he said, turning away abruptly and heading back to his own desk. He plucked a file from a pile perched precariously on the corner and sat down. His face was an expressionless mask, which usually meant he was headed for a sulk of epic proportions.  
  
Robbie tried not to think about what that could mean, but he failed miserably, the result being that the afternoon was even less productive than the morning, if such a thing were possible. By the time James left for the day, Robbie was so tied up in knots of his own making he wasn't sure he'd ever sort out what was really going on.  
  
 _You could ask him._ Dave's voice was in his head now; lovely. Robbie sighed and pushed himself out of his chair, deciding he wasn't going to get any more work done today.  
  
He was standing in the frozen foods aisle of his local Tesco, trying to decide which ready meal would be the least revolting, when his mobile rang. “Hello?”  
  
“Robbie? It's Dave. You still at work?”  
  
“On my way home,” Robbie said. “What's up?”  
  
“I have a bit of news that you might find interesting. How about you drop by the pub in about a half hour? I have a break then – I'll stand you for a pint.”  
  
Robbie studied his basket. Nothing that wouldn't keep in the boot of the car, and he could always pick up some takeaway later. “Sounds good. See you then.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Did you say anything to your sergeant today about our date?” Dave asked without preamble after they'd sat down in the booth.  
  
Robbie took a sip of his pint before replying. “Not exactly. He figured it out for himself, then wanted to know if I was going to see you again.”  
  
“And what did you say?”  
  
“I didn't really answer him,” Robbie admitted.  
  
To his surprise, Dave laughed. “You're a right pair, aren't you? Christ, Robbie.”  
  
Robbie frowned; after the day he'd had, he wasn't in the mood to be told what he was doing wrong. “Well, that's enough about me. What's this news you wanted to tell me, then?”  
  
Dave leaned forwards. “It's about you, pet. Hathaway came by to see me.”  
  
Robbie stared at him, gobsmacked. “When?”  
  
“About an hour ago. Threatened to section me if I ever hurt you.”  
  
Robbie went right from gobsmacked to 'danger of a stroke' in half a second. “ _What?_ ”  
  
Dave grinned at him. “Oh, he did it in a very posh Oxbridge way. Lovely manners, your James. But I knew damn well what he was implying.”  
  
Robbie shook his head, mind reeling. “That's totally out of character. I can promise you he's never done anything like this. Still, if you want to lodge a complaint, I'd understand–”  
  
“Robbie, Robbie,” Dave said, “I don't want to lodge a complaint against the blooming police. Besides, he may be a tall one, but he's pretty skinny, and I fancy I can take care of myself. That's not the point. Don't you realise what this means?”  
  
“That he's gone completely off his chump?”  
  
Dave rolled his eyes. “I could have sworn you weren't this thick.”  
  
Robbie's heart hammered in his chest as Dave's words sank in. “No, he can't –”  
  
“Stop thinking and go _talk to him._ On second thought, don't talk. Just bloody _do it._ ”  
  
Robbie took a few calming breaths, then downed the rest of his pint in one long gulp. Dave patted him encouragingly on the arm.  
  
“There's a proper Tyneside lad. Go get him.”  
  
“Oh, I'll get him,” Robbie muttered, “don't you worry.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
James let Robbie in to his flat without comment, as though he'd been expecting him to show up. Robbie stormed past him into the living room and rounded on him.  
  
“I have one question for you, Sergeant: d'you think I'm a complete idiot?”  
  
Hathaway did a good impersonation of someone snapping to attention, and the mask slid effortlessly into place. “Far from it, sir.”  
  
“Well, then, you must think I'm so decrepit and senile that I can't be trusted to make my own decisions.”  
  
“I'm sorry. I overstepped.”  
  
Robbie poked him in the chest with a finger. “You're bloody right you overstepped. You're lucky that Dave's a nice bloke who has a healthy sense of humour, or you could be facing charges right now. And wouldn't _that_ be one to explain to Innocent.”  
  
Hathaway's cheeks pinkened, but his expression remained impassive. “It won't happen again.”  
  
“No, it won't. I'll make sure of that,” Robbie said darkly. That finally got a reaction out of him: James' eyes widened and for a moment he looked utterly stricken.  
  
 _Jesus,_ Robbie thought, _I am that thick._  
  
“Sir, please –”  
  
Robbie took another step closer. “What, lad?” he murmured.  
  
James swallowed, then closed his eyes and shook his head.  
  
“God, we are two peas,” Robbie said softly. James opened his eyes just as Robbie's hand rose to his cheek.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Robbie slid his hand to the back of James' neck. “You can bring me up on harrassment charges in the morning,” he said, and tugged him down to kiss him.  
  
For what was possibly the longest moment of Robbie's life, James stood frozen, unresponsive. Robbie was just beginning to wonder if he'd misread the whole thing when James made a soft, yearning sound in his throat, and Robbie's doubts were lost in the hot, slick press of James' mouth and the desperate clutch of his hands at Robbie's shoulders.  
  
“What about Dave?” James panted, when they finally broke for air.  
  
“Dave listened to me rattle on about you for hours last night. He was the one who told me to stop mucking about.”  
  
James barked a laugh. “I owe him a rather large apology, don't I?”  
  
“Or several smaller ones in the shape of pints.”  
  
“Several dozen, I should think. I was utterly horrible to him.”  
  
Robbie settled his hands on James' bony hips. “Eh, he's a good Northern lad. He reckoned he could take you if he had to.”  
  
James chuckled and leaned his forehead against Robbie's. “He probably could. Right now I wouldn't care if he punched my lights out.” Ducking his head, he delivered a series of playful, nipping kisses to Robbie's lips and chin until Robbie took his face in both hands and kissed him properly.  
  
“God, please take me to bed,” James murmured against Robbie's mouth.  
  
Robbie shivered and kissed him again, hard and fast. “Fair warning, lad. I haven't done anything like this since the Stone Age.”  
  
James hesitated for a moment, then took one of Robbie's hands and pressed it to the front of his trousers. “I don't think your technique is going to be an issue,” he whispered in Robbie's ear.  
  
And that was the moment when Robbie's brain finally told his remaining doubts to bugger off and leave him be. Without saying another word, Robbie took hold of James' hand and tugged, and James followed him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Robbie was wakened earlier on Saturday morning than he would have liked, but considering the cause, he found he couldn't complain.  
  
“Jesus,” he gasped, hand blindly reaching for James under the covers. His fingers encountered the soft brush of hair and molded themselves to James' skull. “You're – you – ah, Christ –” He trailed off on a gasp and his back arched involuntarily as James' mouth took him in. James' tongue felt like it was everywhere at once, and then Robbie realised that was a slick finger sliding back behind his –  
  
“Did you ever?” James' voice was muffled by the covers, but Robbie caught the meaning well enough.  
  
“No,” he admitted, and the finger immediately stilled, then began to withdraw.  
  
It wasn't warm in the room, but Robbie suddenly felt like he was on fire. Throwing the covers off, he looked down and saw James looking up at him, his usually neatly styled blond hair like a bird's nest.  
  
“Don't stop,” Robbie said.  
  
With his eyes still fixed on Robbie's, James lowered his head again, nosing at Robbie's half-hard cock. “I don't want to rush you,” he murmured, the vibration making Robbie shudder.  
  
“Maybe I'm tired of being careful,” he said. James watched him for another moment, then closed his eyes and pressed the flat of his tongue against the base of Robbie's cock and licked him from root to tip.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Robbie gasped, his hand tightening in James' hair. James shouldered Robbie's legs further apart, and Robbie groaned as he felt James' hand delving lower –  
  
James swallowed him down just as Robbie felt the slow stretch of James' finger inside him. He fought the swift sharp prick of panic – _James, this is James, it's all right_ – and canted his hips to encourage him. As his reward, James moaned and took him deeper, sucking in earnest now, and Robbie panted up at the ceiling, his free hand clutching at the mattress to keep himself from floating away.  
  
He intended to warn James when he was close, but suddenly James' fingertip brushed against something inside him and he stiffened as if shot and oh, Jesus, fuck, he was up and over and crying out loudly enough to wake the neighbours.  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” he babbled when he could remember how to make his mouth form words, his hand unclenching from James' hair and giving his head an apologetic pat. He needn't have worried, though, because James was fine, grinning up at him with such a look of pure joy that Robbie felt his heart flip over in his chest.  
  
“C'mere,” Robbie growled. James wriggled up the bed, settling in Robbie's embrace and resting his head on Robbie's shoulder.  
  
Robbie's free hand slid down James' chest to his belly. “Did you –”  
  
James snuggled closer, and Robbie felt a hardness against his thigh. “Not yet.”  
  
Robbie tried to shift James and roll to his side. “Here, let me –” he began, but James held him down.  
  
“S'good,” James whispered against his collarbone, hips undulating languidly against Robbie's leg. “I'm savouring.”  
  
“You're an odd one,” Robbie said.  
  
James kissed his chest, right over his heart. “Do you mind?”  
  
“You know, I don't believe I do,” Robbie said, smiling as he buried his nose in James' fine, soft hair.


End file.
